A Simple Suggestion
by stargazingandsunshine
Summary: Courfeyrac shows up to Combeferre's apartment drunk, and they discuss somethings. Platonic Combeferre/Courfeyrac, Courfeyrac/Eponine, unrequited Combeferre/Enjolras.


Combeferre wasn't quite sure why he stayed up so late. Maybe it was because the night was quiet, peaceful, making it easier to think.

Or maybe it was because his friends liked to show up at his doorstep at one in the morning, so drunk they can barely walk.

"I couldn't remember my address, but I could remember yours," Courfeyrac offered as an explanation. In his defense, he _just _moved into a different apartment, so he hadn't had the chance to memorize it well enough to remember when he's drunk.

Combeferre just stood aside so his friend could come in. Courfeyrac immediately wrapped his arms around the sober man. He was affectionate by nature, but even more so when inebriated.

"I met a girl," Courfeyrac muttered into Combeferre's sweater.

"Oh?" the taller man replied. "Why didn't you go home with her?" It wasn't an accusation; it wasn't an insult or jibe. It was just what it was. When Courfeyrac said he met a girl, it was usually the morning after they had already spent the night together.

"Because she said I needed to buy her dinner first, and it was already eleven," he answered, not letting go of his friend. His voice sounded so pained.

Combeferre chuckled, because any woman that could do this to his friend was probably something amazing.

"I just, I _really _like her," Courfeyrac continued, nuzzling his head into Combeferre's chest. "She's funny, and she has a great smile, and an even better laugh, and she has really pretty hair and she was twirling it when she was talking to me and she's just _so great _I can't even begin to tell you how great she is because she's just too great for words."

"What's her name?"

"Éponine. Isn't that a great name? It's like something from a story. It's like a princess name."

"Alright," Combeferre said, patting his curly hair. "Maybe we should get you off to bed."

"Mmkay," Courfeyrac nodded, finally releasing his friend and heading into the bedroom. The first time Courfeyrac showed up drunk, about four years ago, he had passed out on the couch, and Combeferre slept in the bedroom. But in the middle of the night, Combeferre had woken to Courfeyrac curling up beside him. This happened another two times, until Combeferre had made sure that Courfeyrac slept in his bed and Combeferre took the couch. This seemed like a good plan until he woke up, once again, to Courfeyrac curled on top of him, pressing so hard against his chest that he could barely breathe.

If they were doomed to sleep in the same spot together, at least the bed would be slightly more comfortable, so Combeferre and Courfeyrac had soon fallen into the routine of both sleeping on the bed. It was tight, not because the bed was small, but because Courfeyrac was even affectionate in his sleep, but it was better than the couch.

Courfeyrac flopped down on the bed, burying his face in a pillow. "Do you want some pajamas?" Combeferre asked, but he just shook his head. "Are you going to puke?" Again, Courfeyrac shook his head no.

Courfeyrac turned to face him. "You know who I think would make a good couple?" he began.

_Oh god._

"Bahorel and Feuilly. I mean, Feuilly's got that tortured artist thing going for him, I think Bahorel would be really into that. And it's not like they would have to be gentle with each other when—"

"Aren't they both straight?"

Courfeyrac laughed. "I don't know. I doubt they know. It doesn't really matter, does it?"

He was silent for a while, and Combeferre thought he might've fallen asleep. But Courfeyrac sniffs, and begins talking again. "You know who else I think would make a good couple? You and Enjolras."

"Please don't," Combeferre said, swallowing hard.

"No, I mean it. I know you two talked about it. And he came up with some shitty excuse like '_I can't afford a distraction right now' _or something lame like that."

"Courf—"

"Just listen, okay? I need to say this and I'll be too hungover in the morning. He needs someone like you. He's too harsh, and I think he's actually really lonely. He needs someone who's gentle like you. And you're just such a great person, and I think he's really dumb for not saying yes to you. Honestly, I don't think anyone deserves you, but he needs you."

"Thank you," Combeferre said, because he's pretty sure that's all he can say.

"You're welcome. I can have Bahorel knock some sense into him if you want."

"Go to sleep, Courf."

"Alright."


End file.
